Circumstances
by albatrocity
Summary: What would have happened had there been no Quell? The Capitol would have found some other way to control Katniss and Peeta, of course! Katniss/Peeta


**Note: **

Heeey guys! I know I haven't updated _Broken_ in forever, and I'm sorry if any of you guys are waiting on that. This idea has been bouncing around in my head for a while though, and I haven't seen any addressing this particular issue I have planned, so I decided to.

**Summary: **

What would have happened had there been no Quell? The Capitol would have found some other way to control Katniss and Peeta, of course! Peeta and Katniss have been married for four years, due to the Capitol forcing them to do so. Now, they have something else they plan on making the Star Crossed Lovers of District Twelve do.

**Disclaimer: **

Own nothing, obviously.

**Timeline: **

Five years after the Seventy-Fourth Hunger games, Midwinter, District Twelve.

oOoOo

_I can feel the hot breath of the Mutts as they close in on me; a fierce stabbing in my side causes my breathing to hitch painfully, but I don't dare stop. The Arena is dark; trees fly passed me as I run, faster than I ever have before, and still, the acrid, foul smelling breath of the genetically enhanced monsters causes my skin to crawl._

_And then, suddenly, the Arena changes. It no longer holds the hundreds of trees, as did the Arena in my Games; no, this Arena resembles the one I had only seen a number of time. Before I can register the change completely, a cliff causes my feet to skid to a halt, my dirty shoes a scant three inches from the edge. I whirl around as the thunderous paws of the Mutt pack heralds their arrival; was there always this many of them? _

_I can see the few that always stand out clearly; Glimmer, Cato, Clove, Thresh, and of course, little Rue. Her Mutt always causes my heart to clench uncomfortably. My foot inches backward slightly, my heel meeting nothing but air. _

_The closest Mutt, the large, blonde one, snarling and slaving, advances on me, her glittering emerald eyes causing my blood to turn to ice. I can see the muscles beneath the tawny pelt bunch and fold as she prepares to leap, her dagger-like claws digging into the earth –_

My eyes open, just like they always do around this point of my nightmares. I lay there, my limbs still paralyzed with fear, a cold sweat seeping into my pajamas. I will my breathing to slow as the minutes tick by. It's been a while since a nightmare with the Mutts has occurred.

A hand, slow and steady, smooths back my somewhat damp hair off my forehead, and I jump slightly before turning my head to the side. Soft blue eyes peer into my own, and I immediately feel myself calm. Peeta.

"Katniss," he murmurs, his voice low with sleep. He runs his fingers over my hair again, trails them slowly down the side of my face, cups my cheek. I lean into his hand, relishing in his presence. He always calms me, sets my nerves at ease.

The unasked question hangs in the air between us. He never asks anymore, knowing that if I want to talk about it, I will. It's something I love about Peeta, his deep-rooted knowledge about me.

"It was the Mutts," I whisper, closing my eyes. I can still feel their wet, hot breath at my heels, their teeth closing centimeters from my flesh. Belatedly, I wonder about my Arena turning into the one from Haymitch's Games, but decide to let it go for now. Silently, he wraps an arm around my middle, pulling me closer to his body. I nestle my head on his shoulder, his chin on top, buried in my hair. A soft, low hum reverberates out of his throat, vibrating slightly against my ear. The noise is so comforting, almost a purr.

The familiarity of him, even in such a simple gesture, is enough to cause sleep to claim me once more.

oOoOo

It couldn't have been more than a few hours later, but the next time I wake, soft, early morning sunlight has managed to wiggle passed the curtains over the window. Dimly, I can see tiny, swirling specks floating and dancing in the shafts of sunlight.

I turn my head upward, still cushioned against Peeta's chest, and watch his face while he sleeps. Even though Peeta always has such an easygoing air about him, he looks younger, calmer, in sleep. He looks like someone who never had to kill, or nearly die from blood poisoning, or lose a leg. Like someone without the Games.

I reach my hand up and, similar to his actions in the night, caress his face delicately. My fingers trail from his temple to his jaw, across the bridge of his nose, and back to his lips where, to my surprise, they purse against my fingers. A small smile spread s across his face as he opens his eyes, gazing down at me. I return the smile, my mind still fuzzy from sleep.

"Hey," he says softly, his lips moving against my fingers. I remove my hand, skim the skin of his throat and down his chest before curling it under my breast. I feel his lips press into my hair.

"Hey, yourself." I reply, turning my face into the soft cloth of his shirt. His chest rumbles, causing me to look back up at him. He's chuckling, his smile a little wider, eyes clearer. I frown at him.

"Always scowling. It's much too early to be scowling, Katniss." He says, a mock air of seriousness tainting his voice. At this, I scowl harder, but even I can feel it slip away quickly. It has been getting a lot harder to maintain my gruff exterior around the Boy with the Bread.

"Shut up." I say halfheartedly. He laughs again, the sound of it almost too loud for this early hour. I sit up, pulling away from his warmth, and swing my legs up and over the side of the bed. The chilly air is too much for me to put my bare feet on the wood floors, though.

Behind me, I can hear Peeta shuffling around the room, opening drawers. Today was a Monday, which means he was meant to be at the Bakery for the morning shift today. I hear him walk over to my side of the bed, feel the bed shift as he sits next to me. A lump of thick, soft wool is set in my hands; socks. I feel a smile tug at my lips once more. He always seems to coax them out of me more frequently. His lips press into my cheek, and before he can rise and head for the bathroom like I know he will, I grab the front of his shirt, keeping him next to me. My other hand strokes his cheek, and I lean my face into his, my lips molding to his in a dance neither of us are new to. Not anymore.

oOoOo

I'm alone in the house now. We occupy Peeta's house in the Victor's Village, just the two of us. My mother and Prim converted my house across the way into a small clinic. I let them, as it's still technically my house, even if I don't live there anymore.

Normally, I would be out in the forest, hunting, but the snow is coming down too thick today; no animals worth shooting will be out and about. I'm curled up on the couch, a fire crackling and popping in the hearth, my bow propped against my knees. I'm restringing it, using some braided sinew I had treated from a large buck I shot a few weeks ago. The fiber was stringy and strong, and I hope it would work like I think it will.

I jump when the phone rings in the kitchen; even after five years, the phone always catches me off guard.

I answer it, expecting Johanna or Finnick (who we have become tentative friends with after being mentors in a handful of Games) or maybe even Effie. But the person who answers me is none of these people.

It's President Snow.

oOoOo

I'm a mess when Peeta comes home mid-afternoon. The phone call with the President left me in shambles. He finds me curled in the bathtub, my head resting on the rim. I've been here for three or four hours.

He lifts me up into his arms quietly, easily, which has ceased to surprise me now. His arms are like pythons, which _does_ surprise me sometimes, but then again, it shouldn't, not really.

He lays with me on the bed, enveloping me in his arms, holding me. After a few minutes of silence, I say, "President Snow called today."

I feel him stiffen, his arms tightening around me subconsciously. He doesn't comment, though, and I can almost hear his brain working. Then, "Say we take a walk?" He asks quietly. I nod against his arm, used to our unspoken code by now, and we rise from the bed, pulling on boots and coats and hats.

We're outside, walking along the snow-covered path in the Village, before either of us speaks again. I can feel him watching me, expecting an explanation. Still, it takes me a moment to say anything.

"He said he hopes I am enjoying your house." His hand squeezes mine, his head nods. He's waiting for more, I know it. "He also said-" I pause, swallow. "He said that our time is up. The people are thirsting for more 'Star Crossed Lovers', and that five years is plenty of time for us to be married." I stop again. It feels like we were just married, really. Yet another thing the Capitol took from us. Though, one good thing came of that, I guess. I am certain of my feelings for my district partner now. If the current discussion at hand wasn't so dire, I would probably smile.

He clears his throat in a way I know means he is uncomfortable. "Meaning?"

"Meaning, I need to be pregnant before the Reaping this year, or I can be certain I will be mentoring another Everdeen for the 80th Hunger Games." I whisper, my voice catching.

oOoOo

**Note:**

I'm not planning on this being a super long story, but we will see how things go. Let me know what you guys think, reviews seriously can mean the difference between a finished story or not sometimes. Also, I know the "pregnant or I kill Prim" thing has been done, but I've some plans for this particular story.

3


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